


Seamless

by Witch_Nova221



Series: Good Omens Celebration 2020 [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Family, GOC2020, Gen, Good Omens Celebration, Home, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:42:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23971021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Witch_Nova221/pseuds/Witch_Nova221
Summary: A little vignette that is part of the universe of my multi-chapter story, To Save Her but that doesn't need to be read to read this (but it explains why Aziraphale decided to write Crowley a collection of poems and stories in a book). Inspired by the GOC2020 prompt 'contrast'.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Good Omens Celebration 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1728172
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9
Collections: Good Omens Celebration





	Seamless

They hadn't made it official. It had been no grand gesture, no handing over of a key, no tentative question when Crowley had been going to leave one morning. It just happened that one morning, he didn't leave.

It was not unusual, since they had thwarted Armageddon, that Crowley would stay a few days at a time, even more so since the night at the Sky Garden when they had finally admitted to the feelings they had been dancing around for six thousand years. This time though Aziraphale noticed that it was not so much him staying for the sake of them doing anything, or even sitting in the back room of the shop and putting the world to rights, Crowley was just there from dawn until dusk. A warm, comforting presence that felt as though it completed the bookshop and made it truly a home. 

It was two weeks in when he began to notice things. Oh he was used to the odd item being left, there had been a change of clothes or two left in Aziraphale's armoire since way before Armageddon and since staying the night had come to mean more than a certain demon crashing out on the sofa, various other necessities he claimed to be unable to live without had began to appear in the bathroom and the small kitchen. Now though there were streaks of dark where there had only ever been light, a sleek stereo system tucked neatly into the little alcove Aziraphale had cleared in anticipation of a new shipment of books, a complicated coffee machine next to the stove in the kitchen complete with a collection of multicoloured pods that seemed to function with it. 

Slowly, ever so slowly, their worlds melded so seamlessly until Aziraphale could not look around and say for certain what had been there for years and what had only been there a few months and he was glad of it.

This was the biggest, most obvious change though. The claiming of territory, the making of a mark. He hadn't been permitted to help, instead he had been instructed to sit on the comfortable chaise with a cup of tea and a good provision of books, a blanket wrapped around him to ward off the mid autumn chill whilst they were stationed on the bookshop roof. Crowley on the other hand was rather more energetically occupied, piecing together the custom greenhouse he had decided to build. Aziraphale had seen the blueprints a half hour before the materials had appeared on the roof. He had seen the hesitant look on the demon's face, the question as to whether the move was too far, too fast. The unspoken change to their living arrangements made all the more permanent with something so precious to Crowley taking up such a large amount of space. 

The angel had smiled, asking him if he required assistance before commenting how lovely it would look and what if they considered a few pots that could spill out onto to the roof itself. Crowley had beamed at that, promising a rooftop garden that could rival Eden in a few years. 

As he watched him an idea began to form, an idea for their future, and he miracled a notebook to hand. He searched through the books Crowley had provided him with, easily finding the collection of Keats poetry that the demon quietly favoured and often asked the angel to read aloud. 

Crowley had built them a home without Aziraphale even noticing, had merged them together in ways Aziraphale had never once hoped could be possible and, as he watched Crowley miracle a particular stubborn part of the greenhouse into place, he couldn't have been more grateful.


End file.
